


The Three Times Crowley Cried and No One Saw, (and the one time he did and someone did)

by ElizaTheWitch



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Biblical Wrath, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Genocide, Lovey-Dovey, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-02
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2021-01-20 19:35:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21287048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElizaTheWitch/pseuds/ElizaTheWitch
Summary: Post-SeriesAfter Crowley and Aziraphale are done helping save the world, they have a drinking party, just the two of them, when Crowley gets drunk and starts babbling about the times he has cried throughout history. Which is a total of three(3) times. Until the day after, now it's four.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Kudos: 21





	1. Prelude

**Author's Note:**

> Now, before you start reading, this is my first fanfic, and do appreciate creative criticism, but please don't be too mean. Thank you. <3

** _~Prelude~_ **

_ After the end of the world is stopped, one is supposed to set a set of celebrations of sorts. Well, that's exactly what Aziraphale and Crowley were doing. A nice dinner at Ritz and then a short walk to, well, Berkley Square of course. Here, an angel and a demon, both believing in the same peace of worlds, technically on opposing sides. But there are no more one-side-or-the-other, is there? No. Now it’s their own side. _  
  
Aziraphale breathed in the night air with a smile. “Ah, it sure is lovely here at this time of night, isn’t it.” He closes his eyes as a breeze sweeps passed both of them, leaving Aziraphale’s face tingling lightly. “Perfect for this time of year.” Crowley hummed and nodded.  
  
“If you say so, Angel. Can’t really feel all the cold as much, but I guess it is a good night.” He agreed quietly. Perhaps one of few times he has ever been this quiet in his life. He tries not to feel strained, but there’s something there in his guts, twisting and churning, feeling awful. “But I’m ready for a night of nice, drink inducing sleep if you care to join?”  


Aziraphale shook his head but smiled as he looked at the demon. “No, I think I’m quite alright for the night. Maybe sometime later. My bookshop on Saturday?” He said with a wide smile that made Crowley’s stomach twist even more.  
  
“Uh, Yeah, yeah, sure. Just save enough rum for me, alright?” Crowley gave his own version of a smile, a kind of smirk.  
  
Aziraphale scoffed. “Of course, can’t stand dark liquor anyway. So, goodnight then?” After everything that's happened, it didn’t feel right to end the night on salutations, and a hug seemed two much. 

  
So that is why they are both standing, in the midst of Berkeley Square, one awkwardly looking at the ground, while the other looks at him. Aziraphale, in good tiding, went in for a handshake but Crowley went in for a hug, making them both pause for a moment then switch, with Aziraphale going in for a hug and Crowley, a handshake. Aziraphale laughed awkwardly with pink-tinged cheeks and a smile that, in Crowley’s opinion, should be illegal.  
  
Aziraphale coughed with a small laugh, catching the demon’s attention as his mind wondered. “Goodnight, Crowley. I will speak with you… later?”  
  
“Of course. Goodnight, Angel.” Crowley smirked a bit before both going about their separate ways.  
  
_ As soon as Crowley had made it back home, his mind was racing with a hundred thoughts per second. He had never been able to catch ill such like that before. As he stared at himself in his bathroom mirror, he took small notes of everything. Rancid stomach. Fast heartbeat. Redding of the face. That's it, he thought. _  
  
“I just have the flu! Oh, thank satan for that! I was a bit worried there for a moment.” He laughed it off before heading down to a hidden wine cellar and drinking to his heart’s content.


	2. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley makes it Azirphales and gets very drunk to the point of rambling in which one (1) Aziraphale is very concerned.

** _~Chapter One~_ **

_ As promised, that Friday, Crowley came over, in a taxi. Quite usual for him since he got his car back, not wanting to scratch it or harm it in any way possible. But when he came in, Aziraphale was halfway through a bottle of 1973 Chateau Merlot. _   
  
Crowley chuckled a bit to himself as he walked in, amusement plaguing his face. “Aziraphale! Started the party without me?” He spoke loudly, making the angel jump nearly out of his skin.   
  
“Oh Crowley, it’s just you. Come on, now! Join me for a drink!” Aziraphale called cheerily, raising a glass half full of red wine. Crowley chuckled, he couldn’t resist. Not really. So he sat down adjacent to the angel and grabbed his favorite bottle of dark liquor before pouring it into a class.   
  
“Cheers.” He said with a smirk of a smile, to which Aziraphale happily responded.   
  
“Cheers.”   
  
_ That was the word that sparked a night full of competitive drinking. Crowley staying in the lead with four bottles of Scottish rum. Aziraphale not close behind with six bottles of very fermented wine. At the start of this, it was around 7:15 at night, barely dim. Now it was near 1 in the morning and neither wanted to sober up just yet. And that is when it started happening. _   
  
“You know…” Mumbled Crowley. “That no one in the entire world has ever seen me… as me. ‘Cept you, of course, weird bastard. Maybe cause you’re such-such a weird bastard…” He slightly yelled as he leaned on his seat. “Ain’t nobody ever been like you…” He mostly whispered to himself, unaware he said it out loud.   
  
Aziraphale giggled a bit, always much more of a cheery drunk. “Wha-what exactly do you mean?”   
  
“What I mean…” Crowley drug out his words, “Is the few times where I have been at my most vulnerable… you were around.” He hiccuped lightly. Somehow his words brought Aziraphale back to reality for a moment. He paused, not wanting his friend to spill any more than he needed or wanted to.   
  
“Crowley, I-I think it best we sober up now.” Aziraphale said as the glasses filled back up with the drinks.   
  
“No! No! Why ruin the fun now? I'm just gettin started!” Crowley yelled a bit with a smirk. “As I was saying, dearest angel… Is that whenever you’re around, for some unearthly reason, I get the strangest feelins’.”   
  
“Crowley, I really do not thin your sober self would want you to talk about this right now.”   
  
“Nonsense! Poppycock! Sober me is just a _coward _who can’t seem to see anything clearly. Like the fact that, for a demon, I cry _ a lot._ Now, now… I know what your thinking in that humongous brain of yours. ‘How often do demons cry if at all?’ Well, the answer dear friend, is never. In _six thousand years _ that I have been on this god-awful planet, I have cried three times. All because of something your _ goody-two-shoes _ boss did.” Crowley, at this point, was beyond rambling. He was spouting his truth he had not been able to tell anyone in almost half a millennia. “The-the um… first time… was during that damn flood.” He paused. “That damn flood, that the _ Almighty _ decided was best with humanity.” He gritted out angrily, his glass glowing a hot red in his hand.   
  
_Memories flood Crowley’s head as he remembered the first time he shed a single tear. He stood on a mountain, watching the rain. Watching the boat. Then looking up at the sky._


End file.
